stars and candlelight // open

[François Valmont]

François leaned on the rail of the long balcony that stretched out along the side of the grand east wing of the palace. It was twilight and the first stars were winking in to life against the clear, deep blue of the night sky.

François turned his gaze from the stars towards the lights of residences and rooms of the palace that sparkled in the growing dark, the fine delicate arches of the palaces many windows illumanted so they cast their fretwork patterns out in to the night. He let out a little snort, his mind turning to it's favourite subject of how much money had been spent on this gilded cage for the wealthy and the overblown whilst the taxpayers in the lower city fought on against poverty and disease, he dim lights of their homes pinpricks against the long rise of the hill that Corus sat upon.

True enough, Corus was far better off than Tusaine had been on the eve of revolution but if only the people of Tortall could see the light and remove those who lived off the fat of the land, life in this city could be almost utopian.

François always felt conflicted when he was trapped up at the palace, unable to make his way in to the city to drink with 'his kind of people'. The nature of his position as ambassador meant that he was forced to live in the palace and attend on all the niceties that went with it, and yet such a lifestyle was against everything he believed in. Over a year living in Corus and François still hadn't reconciled this.

François had taken to the balcony to escape the cloying air of an over-attended reception and to avoid various old bores who always tried to rankle him on the subject of politics. Some nights he would give them all the vitriol they deserved, but tonight he was too weary to rise to the bait.

[Queen Amedessa of Conté]

"Already tired of our outdated politics this evening, your Excellency?"

Amedessa's voice rang clearly through the calm evening, coming from only a short distance behind him. She could not have startled him so much, for even though her step was quiet over the smooth stone of the balcony, he likely had caught the rustle of her skirts or the faint lull of voices when she had exited the parlor she had been attending to. As she came to stand beside him she asked with a smile, "Or is it Monsieur Valmont? I am never sure how to address you without insulting you. I'm old-fashioned despite my age, it would seem."

After speaking, she leant forward, resting her arms comfortably on the rail just as he did. She watched him for a moment, trying to gauge his thoughts, then allowed her own eyes to stray out over the horizon. Even after a year of becoming acquainted with François, Amedessa was still uncertain of how his mind worked––she was positive he was an idealistic man, dedicated to his fledgling Republic; but was he someone she could trust to be unbiased and faithful in his diplomacy? Glances at him during court sessions always seemed to give her the impression that Tortall was always at fault and commiting grievous injusticies against its people.

Looking out at the lights winking steadily in the darkening twilight, Amedessa minded that François had a great passion for the people. Whenever she tried to discuss the people with him, the queen always felt as if the Tusainer checked his opinions, as if he could not trust her to possibly understand them. In part, this was frustrating, because it meant that Amedessa constantly had to guard her discourse with him, for fear of building on his perception of her as being ignorant and pompous.

"Imagining one of your pristine Republican structures one of those hills?" she queried, a playful banter in her tone, not intending to offend. "The white columns would be quite comely facing east when the dawn strikes them."

[François Valmont]

At the sound of the Queen's voice, François turned and bowed to the approaching monarch. As much as it galled him, he was always mindful that this was not his country and as such he should watch his manners. He simply smiled as the Queen made her comment about his title and resumed his position leaning on the rail. She was more than aware of his politics and his feelings and although they clearly disagreed on them, she had always been indulgent of what she surely saw as his quirks.

He mostly dealt with her advisors and ministers on matters of policy but on his arrival little more than a year ago, he had been duly impressed that the Queen took time to know everyone who was both vital to or who presented a possible challenge to her administration.

He would never lay claim to know the ruler of Tortall on anything more than a cursory level, ambassador to monarch, but he did find the way she handled herself most intriguing, especially with the benefit of not being in awe of her, unlike so many others at court.

François laughed outright as she made her comment about republican structures. "I am a simple man, your majesty, simple things please my eye far more than the ornate. However simple does not seem to be the Tortallan taste." He turned his head to regard her, a small but rueful smile giving away that he too was, mostly, joking.

[Queen Amedessa of Conté]

"No, certainly not," she agreed warmly, several images flashing through her mind. "But I believe that in some instances you lose something by forgoing the little extra details. A craftsman's work is a part of his being and he gives it away to his commissioner. He dedicates it not only to them, but to himself. The knotwork on my hunting saddle still amazes me. Perhaps you will call it superfluous and a misappliance of money and labor, but I believe intricacy to be what makes an object as unique as its creator."

Here the queen paused, making a gesture with her hands, as if searching for some other way to phrase what she meant: "An identity, if you will. Anyway, I have this romantic notion that someday when Tortall has either begun to rot or has abandoned its over-indulgent ways––they will look back on all this superfluous grandeur and marvel to themselves at how wealthy enough we once were to flatter our arrogance with all those ornate bits of intricacy. They will see my portrait in some dry history book and remark at my vanity, just as they have my forefathers."

She allowed this to settle in before smilingly turning to her companion. "I would point out this small irony," she told him, the inflection of her voice quite bemused. "The architecht my great-grandfather commissioned to design this Palace was from Tusaine. Hugo Beaufort, I believe his name was. He was paid so handsomely, that I'm positive your revolutionaries must have executed his descendents for being enormously wealthy and lavishly dressed."

"But enough of that, and my boasting," Amedessa sighed, almost as if she had disapproved of herself for saying some of the things she had. She was silent beside him for several moments before she asked: "Has anyone shown you the city since you've been here, Valmont?"

[François Valmont]

François listened with interest as the Queen spoke, the ghost of that rueful smile still lingered at the corners of his mouth. A thin eyebrow shot upwards when she mentioned the Beauforts but other than that he kept an expression of polite interest on his face, well aware that it was a case of 'never the twain shall meet' when it came to their respective ideas about grandeur and design.

"I confess," he began, in answer to the Queen's question "that my trips to the city this year have been limited mostly to the social functions I've been required to attend." His nose wrinkled a little as he mentioned the parties he was duty bound to put in an appearance at.

He raised a hand to lazily flap away a gnat that was buzzing near his ear, drawn by the light from the lamps, then continued.

"I seem to find that my guides and your ministers always seem unwilling to take me to anywhere but the most expensive and impressive parts of town. Don't you find it amusing that they should think that would be the way to impress me?"

He cocked his head a little to the side, watching the Queen's face closely, then added "especially given the less than grand exit the Beauforts received for all this...vanity."

François guessed that the Queen would not be as squeamish about this fact as some of her subordinates had been, at least not openly. He had not personally overseen the beheading of the Beauforts, but for building such a symbol of extravagance in a neighbors country it had not taken much for the fervent crowds to bay for their blood.

[Queen Amedessa of Conté]

"They are trying their best to treat you respectfully, more than likely," Amedessa told him, the quirk of a smile working at her lips. "They hold you in high esteem and regard because of the status which you were appointed to, and believe you are deserving of the best of things. Ironically, expensive taste is also a sign of corruption and motive––and I am sure you are well aware of that. Heedless, trust that the intentions of my ministers are only to please and impress you in the only way they know how."

Here she paused, a wrinkle appearing in one of her brows. "You know, Valmont, your rank does not rob you of your independence," Amedessa pointed out, the murmur of her voice soft. "You know in advance when your presence at court is mandatory, and yet you come even when your presence is not required. You could just as easily venture into the city on your leisure days––I would only worry about your safety, as it is in my hands. I would recommend the Frosty Arrow tavern, namely because I know it's in a reputable part of Corus."

Casting her eyes again over the dancing lights in the distance, she felt a pang of pity for François and another twinge of embarrassment for herself. In a monarchy like Tortall's, social functions were core to keeping the nobles closely knit and to push support for government action. The common Tortallans themselves seemed content to perceive their governing class as existing in a sort of fairy tale; the very announcement of a ball stirred fanciful images in girls' hearts and the news of success at sea or in border campaigns drew men in to soldier and dispense themselves under the command of young lords. They had yet to realize that the class above them was equally as human as their own, and that their power was derived more from the people beneath them than they readily believed.

Stepping away from the rail, Amedessa hesitated, then gestured for him to accompany her. "Let's have a turn about the balcony," she suggested, though it left François barely any reason to refuse. Her hesitation had been a last minute consideration that putting out her hand to take his arm was not the best way to approach the ambassador. It set her in a much too informal light, and to her seemed to detain some of her individual strength as queen.

[François Valmont]

François fell in to step next to the Queen. He was again impressed at her delicate handling of him. She showed just enough respect for her politics and postition as was befiting without offending his sensibilities. She was also incredibly good at playing the power game, making sure that no minute gap was left where she could be perceived as week or yielding in anyway. He supposed that was the burden of being a woman in what was essentially a man's world.

"We have a saying in Tusaine, perhaps you have it here too, I don't know. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer." He glanced sidelong at the queen. "That is why I attend court as much as possible. I also know that I am often not invited when such important matters as access to ports are discussed. Of course I'm sure that is a mere oversight. Tusaine is, after all, landlocked - I can understand why you might think these discussions are not important to us." As per usual, François, left no room for misundertanding although it was shrouded in politeness.

"But perhaps such matters are best confined to the court your Highness?" He waved his hand as if waving away any notion of discussing politics on such a night.

"The Frosty Arrow you say. Of course, your majesty knows that I am just a common man I don't necessarily seek anything more than good simple company." Now this was plain fact, François would give up 30 rich parties for one night amongst common folk in a simple tavern. He wondered how simple the Arrow was? He doubted very much it would be somewhere where his discourses on the common man would widely accepted, just as the Queen would want it. He smiled to himself at that thought.

[Queen Amedessa of Conté]

François' statement "keep your friends close and your enemies closer" brought forth an amused laugh from the queen.

wwwwwip (sorry Nana I just can't seem to get a response up for this!)